


Falling Snow

by Redisaid



Series: Falling [2]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, Warcraft III, World of Warcraft
Genre: A little heavy moment but then straight back to soft gay, Adventure, Anyway it's gay now, F/F, Fluff, Jaina is still a little shit, Magical Shenanigans, Oh my god this got so fucking long, Pre-Third War, Sharing a Bed, Stream of Consciousness, Sylvanas is still sassy and alive, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Useless Lesbians, Why does this shit keep happening?, Wilderness Survival, for real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 16:43:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17005317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redisaid/pseuds/Redisaid
Summary: Apprentice mage Jaina Proudmoore is at it again, this time looking to prove herself on an impromptu mission from Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider himself. Oh yeah, and he's bringing along an old friend of hers.





	Falling Snow

A knock stirred Jaina from her book. Whatever or whoever was at the door to Archmage Antonidas’ study had to be infinitely more exciting than what was going on inside. The Archmage was talking softly with one of his top advisors, a middle-aged mage named Modera, who had quickly become something of a big sister to Jaina in her first six months of apprenticeship under the Antonidas. The Archmage was repeating himself for at least the fifth time to her, arguing his own points over and over. Jaina was there to take notes on the discussion, but had long ago given up on that in favor of catching up on her reading. She’d set her notebook aside and was nose deep into a tome on object conjuration. Modera rolled her eyes even as Jaina got up to answer the door. Antonidas didn’t notice, and kept droning on.

Jaina found another familiar face on the other side of the door, albeit one she didn’t see as often as the others. “Vereesa!” she exclaimed. 

The high elf bowed her head in proper greeting, but smiled all the same. The youngest of the Windrunner sisters, she somehow looked it, despite being decades older than anyone else in the room, even the ancient Antonidas. “It's good to see you again, Jaina. I have missives for the Archmage, from Silvermoon.”

Jaina’s heart skipped a beat, but she kept a practiced straight face. “Oh, of course. Please come in then.”

Vereesa gave her a little wink before slipping a smaller envelope out of the stack she carried and deftly handing it to Jaina. Only then did she move into the room to greet the older mages.

Jaina immediately went back to her seat and tore open the envelope while the others were distracted. She shoved the letter it contained into her notebook, then did her best to look attentive to the conversations of her betters.

“Thank you, Lady Windrunner,” Antonidas said as he accepted the other letters from her. “As always, I appreciate your efforts to act as a courier on your visits back home. It is good to have someone I know I can trust to handle such communications.” 

He then passed the letters off to Modera, who would no doubt be doing all the work of actually reading them and replying to them, or even pass most of that on to Jaina, depending on how important they actually were.

“I will gladly take any excuse I can to visit my homeland more often, Archmage, so I am glad for the trust you choose to place in me,” Vereesa replied.

They then started going on about how mutual friends were doing, who had died, who was getting married, and the usual mundanity that took place in conversations between such acquaintances. Nothing important enough that Jaina had to take notes on it.

Which was a good thing, since she had already given in to the temptation to read her letter, though she made her best effort to make it look like she was just studying her notes.

_Lady Proudmoore,_

_Let’s start this off formally, shall we? But first..._

_Vereesa, if you are snooping, I can guarantee that at least this part will be boring. Also, don't read my mail, Little Moon!_

_Now that that's over with, I wanted to thank you for the advice you gave in your last letter regarding the proximity warding enchantments we’ve been using. I showed your findings to a few of our sorceresses, and they were able to work out the change from a tripwire style to the field-based design you described. These will prove excellent for our scouts in their work observing the movements of the Amani trolls. Quel'thalas is yet again in your debt._

_See, Vereesa? Very boring._

Jaina's jaw was already hurting from suppressing a grin. She looked up to find Vereesa dutifully nodding at something Antonidas was rambling about, and wondered if she really did have a habit of reading her older sister's letters, or if calling her out had just become part of Sylvanas’ usual banter. No doubt Vereesa would have grown tired of them by now. Their letters had mostly devolved into Sylvanas and Jaina sharing somewhat useful information through a series of awful puns and wordplay.

_Anyway, I have even better news than that for you, though I do know you would love for me to devote this entire letter to praising your intelligence._

_Our mutual tumor--I mean our beloved friend and the future ruler of my people--Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider, has called upon my services for a mission in Alterac. It has something to do with some ogre artifact that he desires, but other than that, I know precious little, save that I am to rally a small force of my rangers and meet him in Dalaran._

Despite the control she exercised up until then, Jaina felt a tiny startled noise slip past her throat, and slam up against her teeth before it came out as a weird little half-formed cry of excitement. She quickly followed it with a cough, hoping it would blend in. Only the cough came exactly during a lull in the conversation of the room's other occupants.

“Jaina, child, are you well?” Antonidas asked her.

She coughed again for effect. “I’m fine, Archmage. Thank you for your concern. I think it's just a little dusty in here today.”

“Perhaps you should go get some air?” the old mage suggested in his usual kindly way.

“No really, I’m fine,” Jaina insisted. She waited for them to look away before going back to the letter.

_So yes, I believe you owe me lunch, if you have not forgotten. Prepare to pay up on your debt. I'll be in the city a day early to assist in outfitting the expedition and planning our route, but I am certain I can steal away for an hour or two. You can blame Prince Kael’thas for the short notice, but will you be free tomorrow?_

Tomorrow? That was so soon. Too soon or not soon enough? Jaina couldn't decide. Another noise threatened to squeak through her clenched jaw, so she coughed again to cover it. 

_If you can manage it, meet me at the Silver Enclave at noon, and we will see if this cheese souffle of yours is all you made it out to be, or just the ramblings of a hungry little mage. Either way, it will be a good opportunity for us to match wits in person again._

_Until then,_

_Sylvanas_

Jaina had to fake an outright coughing fit to keep herself contained.

“Are you certain you're quite well?” Antonidas asked from across the room again.

“I think I might need some air after all,” Jaina concluded, as she hastily started to pack up the letter and her books. “Would you mind if I took a break out on the balcony?”

“Go on ahead,” Antonidas said, waving her off. “I will need that sharp mind of yours later on, so please take care of yourself.”

“I'll be in much better shape when I come back. I promise,” she replied, books clutched to her chest as tightly as if they were filled with gold.

Out on the balcony, Jaina read the letter again, then once more for good measure. A warm breeze whipped about her, reminding her that spring was just coming to the city. Up where she was, in one of the taller spires of the Violet Citadel, she could see a grand view of most of the kingdom of Lordaeron as it was just beginning to turn green again. Well, she would have, if she didn't read the letter over again for a third time.

An almost musical little laugh interrupted her before she could pour over the words again. “I take it my sister let you know of her visit?” Vereesa asked as she came to lean on the railing beside Jaina. 

“So you do read her letters,” Jaina said, mostly joking, but also slightly asking.

Vereesa laughed again. “No, but she thinks I do, which is all part of the fun. Believe me, I know enough of my sister's business without having to pry. Anyway, she asked for me to come along on this expedition, no doubt to keep her civil around the prince. That's the only reason I know, but I'm sure she told you all about it.”

Jaina nodded to confirm that. “She's made it pretty clear she can't stand him.”

“Our prince is...well, a lot. He's certainly a personality. I'm sure you understand what I'm saying here. Sylvanas is not anything like that, yet our people adore the both of them,” Vereesa told her. “I’m guessing that means she’ll stop by to chat about all those spells and enchantments you two like to trade on the way. Maybe it’ll save me from carrying another letter.”

“You said you didn’t mind,” Jaina gently reminded her.

Vereesa waved her hand, “I don’t. I promise you, I don’t. Sylvanas has always said that we should work closer with the humans. She’s advocated for it for longer than you can imagine. So yes, it’s nice to see her acting on it. I suppose I have you to thank for that.”

“Yup, me, a reckless little apprentice,” Jaina said with a laugh, remembering how she first happened to meet the Ranger General, in her teleportation mishap from last autumn.

“Not an apprentice for much longer, or so I hear,” Vereesa said with a knowing little tone to her voice.

That was no surprise to Jaina. She’d also heard that Antonidas was advocating for her to move up to a full member of the Kirin Tor within the next few months, mostly to justify getting her more involved in his own pet projects, but she wasn’t going to get her hopes up. Things moved slowly in the world of mages, where everyone around her was decades older, or an elf--so centuries older. Even as revered as her mentor was, his word was only one of many. Jaina seemed to have a knack for charming and impressing those that got to know her, but to everyone else, she was still a very young woman from a place that had very little magical tradition, and she still had a hell of a lot to prove.

“Just rumors,” Jaina responded dismissively. 

“Not if what Rhonin tells me is right,” Vereesa told her with an encouraging little pat on her shoulder, “but I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?” 

Jaina had never known an entire day to pass by so quickly. Vereesa had to leave just after that little talk, called away as she always seemed to be. Jaina rejoined the Archmage and helped him and Modera through a series half-translated incantations. Where she lacked in the linguistic knowledge to fill in the blanks, the older mages relied on her instincts to suggest different runes and spellwork to use when they were unsure. Her good guesses earned her an easy dismissal for the next day when she asked for it. By the time they’d worked through these, it was full dark, and with that came a hasty late dinner, and an overly long bath. 

Then Jaina, fussing with her still wet hair in her room, at just about midnight, wondering why it mattered to her that it looked nice for tomorrow. Trying hard not to wonder, but still fussing with her hair nonetheless.

Then Jaina, staring at the ceiling of her room a few hours later, still awake and trying not to dwell on those thoughts. Trying not to think about the box of letters she kept under her bed, or the beautiful elven knife she never left home without. 

Then Jaina, getting fed up with the limited wardrobe of a Kirin Tor apprentice in the morning, and settling for robes that she thought looked professional. Because that’s what this was--a meeting between professional friends. That was what all those letters were about anyway. In some roundabout way or another, they had just been discussing magic. Right? 

Then Jaina, showing up at main square of the Silver Enclave a good thirty minutes early, trying her best to blend in with the crowd, even though she didn’t. She literally stuck out like a sore thumb, a good head taller than most of the female high elves around her. The elves themselves either shot her a look of confused disdain or ignored her all together, but Jaina was used to such behavior from them. She scanned the square vigilantly, but didn’t see a familiar face amongst the sea of pale hair and glowing eyes. Sure, she looked a lot like all of them, but Sylvanas was still very distinct in a way Jaina couldn’t otherwise describe. 

So distinct, she must have missed her entirely. Jaina felt her heart leap directly into her throat as someone tapped her on the shoulder. She whirled around, hand up and ready to throw a spell, only to find the exact face she was looking for, smirking at her.

Sylvanas, as elves had a tendency of doing, hadn’t changed at all in these six months. She was resplendent in her full Ranger General regalia, but the shine and excess of her armor did little to hide the sassy little archer that Jaina had the pleasure of literally falling into not too long ago. She’d learned more about her since then, of course. Most of it came from her sister, who had been acting as a messenger for Antonidas long before Jaina began working with him. But the rest was hard to avoid. It seemed that, since meeting her, Jaina heard her name on the lips of every other elf she came across. It was true, her people loved her, and respected her. 

Would they still, if they knew the Sylvanas that Jaina found herself getting to know? Honestly, Jaina found the sass and sarcasm endearing, but she doubted that it quite fit with Sylvanas’ militant public persona, but even that seemed to be something that Sylvanas herself didn’t need to do much to maintain. 

Jaina recovered herself as best she could, “You could warn a girl next time, Lady Windrunner.”

Sylvanas grinned at her, revealing the odd little fangs that all elves had. “If I couldn’t sneak up on a human, then I wouldn’t be worthy of my job, would I? It’s good to see you again, Lady Proudmoore,” she said as she offered a warrior’s handshake.

At least Jaina knew enough about elven culture now to return it correctly, which Sylvanas seemed to note with a bit of pride. Of course, she didn’t need to know about the scores of notes Jaina had taken on the subject. She didn’t need to know about her hanging out on the edge of the Silver Enclave, watching and listening. She didn’t need to know about how much Thalassian Jaina had picked up since they last met, or that it was a staggering amount for just six months of self-study. She didn’t need to know about the countless sketches of elven ears in various positions, with lines indicating their movement, and notes next to them about what Jaina thought that ear movement meant--or what someone had told her when she was brave enough to ask.

“Well, lead the way,” Sylvanas commanded jovially, gesturing out toward the rest of the city. “Unless you’re not willing to keep your end of the bargain.”

“On the contrary, I’ve been looking forward to it,” Jaina told her as she began walking.

Sylvanas also didn’t need to know just how much she had been looking forward to it.

Their easy banter returned to just where it left off as they walked. Perhaps even easier now that Jaina wasn’t injured this time. More than a few heads turned as they watched the Ranger General laughing along with Antonidas’ apprentice, but Sylvanas didn’t seem to care. Jaina was certain she noticed, but she didn’t show it. She found it difficult not to mirror that ease. Even now, weighed down by her armor as she was, Sylvanas acted as if she was above such judgement. It was an earned grace, one Jaina could only hope to imitate.

She did her best, even as they settled in to the little restaurant near the Violet Citadel--just a small and relatively cheap place that was favored mostly by students. The waiter didn’t seem to know what to do, and took his time staring at Sylvanas’ armor as he handed them menus. This wasn’t exactly a place for her to be seen, but Sylvanas didn’t seem to mind. She ordered herself and Jaina a pot of the house tea as casually as if she’d done so every day of her life. Jaina was only glad that the young waiter got the hint and ran off to get the tea before one of them had to make sure he wasn’t about to faint in front of them. 

“Sorry, I didn’t really think about, you know, actually bringing you here,” Jaina confessed as the frantic clatter of ceramics could be heard from behind the kitchen doors. “I probably could’ve gotten us a table at the Legerdemain, or some place nicer.”

“And I probably could have gotten out of uniform and not made this such a hassle,” Sylvanas noted. “I really don’t mind. This place looks lovely. You of all people know I’d be content to shoot and gut my own lunch, so this is more than enough for me.”

“But who else knows that?” Jaina had to ask. 

She was rewarded for her boldness with another smirk. “Not all that many people, I’ll admit,” Sylvanas told her.

“Not to change the subject too much,” Jaina started, “but since I didn’t get to reply to your letter, I have to ask why Kael’thas brought you here to go scouting around Alterac for him. Isn’t that, you know, a task for someone who would fit into this sort of place a little better?”

“You’re full of accurate observations today,” Sylvanas said. “It’s almost like you’re getting smarter. Pretty soon you’ll be putting even me to shame. But yes, you’re right. Our prince likes to have fun pulling rank every so often. With me, or with any other of our kingdom’s notables. We’ve no choice but to indulge him. You’ve been around enough noble courts to understand…”

“Of course,” Jaina replied with a nod. “And it’s not just him that does it.”

“No, but he always does it in a spectacularly annoying way. But no need to lecture me like my sister does. I’ve resolved to meet his demands as quickly and as courteously as possible this time. The sooner I can get him what he wants, the sooner I can get back to my regular duties,” Sylvanas said.

The waiter arrived with their tea, and made a half-hearted attempt to pour it for them before Sylvanas shooed him away and did it herself. 

Jaina found herself wearing an all too wide grin as Sylvanas handed her a cup. That gesture, simple as anything, familiar as if no time or odd circumstances had ever passed between them and their last meeting, was exactly what Jaina needed. All uncertainties melted away. This was a friend sitting across from her. A friend who didn’t care about all of the politics that surrounded the both of them. A friend that would be a friend regardless of what armor she wore. Ranger General or not, Sylvanas would pour her a cup of tea, would listen to her ramble about her theories on the arcane, and could laugh about the time they were stuck together in the rain, half naked and shivering. 

Tides, that was something she’d never really had, wasn’t it?

“I’m going to guess you take sugar in your tea?” Sylvanas said as she offered the small ceramic bowl the waiter had brought with the tea service.

“Honey, actually,” Jaina corrected her.

“You’re just full of surprises,” Sylvanas said with a peculiar little smile before she flagged the poor boy down again to ask for honey.

Two cheese souffles and a shared piece of cake later, Jaina was contemplating finding something else to order, even though she was stuffed, just so she could keep this going a little longer. This being the ease of their conversation, how they laughed together at the waiter that still hadn’t managed to get a handle on himself yet, and how good it was just to talk, how easy it was just to be there, in that moment.

“Uh, more tea, ladies?” the waiter asked as he almost dropped the cake plate onto Sylvanas’ boots.

Another voice answered before Jaina could, “I think they were just finishing up. I’ll have my people take care of the bill.”

Prince Kael’thas stood in the doorway of the little cafe, looking as if he didn’t wish to go any further than that. As always, he was attended by a swarm of lackeys, most of which were elven mages. Interestingly enough, there were a few rangers among them this time. By their forlorn expressions that were directed toward the Ranger General, and the subtle droop of their ears that Jaina was proud to have noticed, she guessed they were Sylvanas’.

“I wondered who it was you said you were going to meet, Ranger General. If you’d told me it was my dear friend Lady Proudmoore, then I would have joined you,” he offered, still not moving from the door.

Sylvanas stood and offered a salute. “I hadn’t thought on it. I will keep that in mind next time, your highness,” she said with a practiced stiffness in her voice.

Jaina stood with her, trying her best to emulate her and not show the anger she was feeling over the interruption.

“Perhaps you’ll choose a more...appropriate...venue next time,” Kael’thas noted. “But luck always seems to find the two of you together. Or it finds me with you, anyway. I just left a meeting with Archmage Antonidas, where I requested the aid of one of his students for this trip, specifically one that would be most helpful in our efforts to understand the enchantments used in the intact Altar of Storms my scouts found in Alterac. Guess whose name was first on his list?”

“An Altar of Storms?” Jaina couldn’t help but ask. “Where they turned ogres into mages? I thought those were all destroyed after the war?”

Kael’thas shook his head. “So did we, my dear, but this one survived. In Alterac of all places. Unfortunately, the mountains are still buried in snow this time of year. I trust you have winter gear?”

“Weren’t those carved out of elven runestones? Why is one in Alterac? Wait...winter gear?” Jaina said, finally catching up to the rest of the conversation.

“Well yes, the Archmage said we could borrow you for the expedition,” Kael’thas told her. “He thought it would be a good opportunity for you to show off your skills, maybe even demonstrate why it is that he says you should become a full member of the Kirin Tor…”

Jaina looked between him and Sylvanas, helpless for a moment. Sylvanas seemed just as shocked as she was. 

Kael’thas answered for both of them, “Unless I am mistaken, I know that you’ve been a great help to the Archmage in his work studying the magic of the orcs. This should be right up your alley.”

A real mission. A real task. Something to accomplish, out there in the world, not in the stuffy libraries of Dalaran. It was everything she’d wanted.

And Sylvanas would be there. Fuck. Sylvanas would be there.

“Well?” Kael’thas asked, still hanging in the doorway.

“Well,” Jaina replied with one quick look at Sylvanas before she tried to mirror that confidence she so admired in her yet again. “I guess I have to go figure out what I did with my heavy cloak, huh?”

She wouldn't have to put much thought into it, because Modera was waiting for her outside of her room as she ran back into the Citadel a few minutes later. Pride stretched the lines of her face as she smiled at Jaina and held out a bundle of purple cloth to her.

“Since I hear you are heading out on an expedition as a representative of the Kirin Tor, I thought you might want to look the part,” she said as she handed the bundle to Jaina.

Jaina unfolded it to find a beautiful cloak of Kirin Tor purple, edged in gold, with accents of silvery thread throughout, shimmering into a beautiful runic pattern across the entire length of the garment. As she brushed along the pattern with her fingertips, she found it warm to the touch. 

“I’ve taken the liberty of enchanting it for you,” Modera explained. “The fabric is light, as I’m sure you can tell, but the enchantment varies with the temperature of the air. It will keep you warm in the winter and cool in the summer, as well as provide a little boost to your mana regeneration. I was going to give it to you when you were formally inducted, but I figure you might need it for this next adventure.”

“Modera…” Jaina breathed, continuing to trace the pattern, noting the quality of its spellwork, as well as its outward beauty. Such a garment, so wonderfully crafted and so expertly enhanced, was truly one of a kind. “I can’t accept this.”

“You’d better,” the older mage said with a little laugh. “I made it for you, after all. Wear it with pride, knowing that you deserve it.”

So she did. 

Everything moved so fast. This was a dance that was very familiar to the mages of the Kirin Tor. It happened daily. A representative would go here and there, traveling across the known world by portal or through some long and arduous way. Jaina had rarely given thought to the logistics of it all, or at least she hadn’t until she was the one suddenly being handed purple accented winter clothes one minute and a loaded travel pack the next. She was rushed into briefings and given maps and advice she didn’t really need, but the Kirin Tor were not ones to have their own look like fools. By the time the evening drew to a close, Jaina was fairly certain she could draw a decent map of Alterac from memory. 

The end of the day saw her with a full kit of travel supplies that she was told would be enough to sustain her for a week on her own, if need be, a small scroll case with Archmage Antonidas’ personal notes from previous studies and theorizations regarding the Altars, and a lingering feeling in the pit of her stomach that she was not quite ready for all of this, but also a warm determination that fought with it each moment, demanding her to take advantage of this opportunity.

It saw Jaina into the next morning with almost no sleep to her name, but with a steady buzz of energy regardless as she steeled her nerves and met with Kael’thas’ expedition on the outskirts of the city. A sea of elven names met her in introductions. Two male mages attended the prince, along with a steward. She didn’t know of them previously, and had already forgotten their names by the time the rangers joined them. 

Of course, she may have forgotten them because the rangers joined them. Sylvanas was at their head, resplendent again in her full uniform of blue and gold, now with the addition of a fur-lined cloak. Vereesa walked at her side, clad in a similar uniform and cloak that denoted her rank as a Ranger Captain, and offered Jaina little wink as they came into view. Sylvanas introduced the four other officers that attended them in another flurry of elven names with too many vowels, Anya, Kalira, Lenara, and Vorel. All women, each of them with the same sort of hardness to them that marked them as veterans. And, knowing Sylvanas, each of them probably also possessed some skill that would further her goal of keeping this expedition as brief as possible.

“My best and most trusted, just as you requested, my prince,” she said with a flourish. They kept all their words in Common for Jaina’s sake.

Kael’thas nodded, seemingly satisfied with her selection. “Well, I’m sure it comes as no surprise to you, Ranger General, that Alterac is not the place it once was. I’ve asked for the presence of you and these rangers to keep us protected as we conduct our research and to see that we get there without disturbing the...local fauna...too much. The area is still beset with ogres that defected during the Horde’s flight from Silvermoon. They now call the ruins of that kingdom home, but thankfully for us, they lack the intelligence to establish themselves in any sort of notable presence. Still, they hold this Altar in some form of reverence, and do not stray too far from it. I am confident you’ve come up with a plan to distract them enough to allow my mages and Lady Proudmoore here to study the thing?”

Sylvanas shot Jaina a knowing little glance and a half-formed smile before she answered, “Of course, my prince. Based on your reports, this should be an easy task. The scouts were kind enough to note the presence of a great deal of wild yetis in these lands. The beasts are as large as the ogres themselves and twice as brutish. They also have a keen sense of smell and a legendary prey drive. All we have to do is ensure that they get wind of the scent of blood in the direction of the orges’ camps, and we’ll have all the distraction we need.”

“Direct, brutal, and effective--exactly what I expect from you, Sylvanas,” Kael’thas said with a chuckle. He turned address the rest of them. “We’ll be traveling a bit light, as I’m sure you’ve noted.”

Jaina certainly had. It was hard not to stare at the enchanted wagon that the steward seemed to have taken ownership of. The golden vessel floated over the ground as if moved by invisible wheels. It almost had the look of the floating coffin of a noble with more money than sense. Complex magic and enchantment oozed from it, brushing against her senses with a constant wash of arcane energy. Only elves would use something so excessive and so complex for the simple purpose of carrying gear. Kael’thas and his men didn’t seem to be intent on carrying anything, leaving all of their survival needs in the hands of the strange wagon. Sylvanas’ rangers, on the other hand, all had some form of small pack on them. 

Jaina had to wonder if this was a joke on the prince’s part, but the rangers were stoic. They all seemed to mirror Sylvanas’ stiff, but subservient expression--ready to take orders, but certainly not ready to take anything seriously. 

“That said,” Kael’thas continued. “I will provide us a portal to a known safe location where we can make our base camp. From there, we will provide our esteemed Ranger General here with the means necessary to execute her plan, the prepare for our studies. Understood?”

Jaina watched the elves and nodded with them. After all the talking that had been done over the last day, she was just as eager as any of them to get on with it.

Minutes later, they were in the freezing ruins of a watchtower, nestled in against a cliffside that sheltered it from the wind. Sylvanas and her officers seemed content with their position, and she’d already sent all but Vereesa off to survey the area. Vereesa was already in full force with the skill she seemed to charged with for this mission, keeping Kael’thas away from her sister. She chatted him up in quick Thalassian as her oversaw the unpacking of the enchanted wagon. Jaina was proud of herself yet again for being able to pick out most of the conversation, which was basically filled with Vereesa stoking the prince’s ego.

“I think I know that look,” came with a little laugh over the sound of the wind whipping over the cliff above them.

“And what does that look say?” Jaina asked as she turned to face Sylvanas.

“Someone has been studying,” Sylvanas noted to her in her native language, poking just slightly at Jaina’s shoulder.

“Just...don’t ask me to speak it, not yet, but yes,” Jaina admitted.

Sylvanas laughed again, switching back to Common, “Best you not insult our prince by trying. That cloak is lovely, by the way.”

“Thank you. It was a gift,” Jaina told her. “One I will strive to prove that I deserve.”

“I’ll do my best to help you get there,” Sylvanas assured her, giving her a nod before she ran off to join Vereesa, who was beckoning her sister over to the prince with a forlorn look. 

As the day stretched on, Jaina’s mind changed drastically about the practicality of Kael’thas’ supply wagon. Well, maybe practicality was the wrong word. All of this still wasn’t practical, but it was definitely better than her expectations of another cold camping trip spent wet and miserable, huddled around a fire. 

No, that wagon had held wonders. Not one, but two grand tents, each fitted with an enchanted brazier that heated them to just the right temperature. Entire meals of elven delicacies, packaged like elegant little picnics. Entire beds for each member of the expedition, compacted with an spell that Jaina had never seen before. She was even brave enough to ask one of Kael’thas’ mages to show her how it worked as he went about expanding them all to normal size. Good food, good wine, great comforts--basically, all the trappings of a sophisticated elven home.

“If it weren’t for the cold, I would tell you we hadn’t left Dalaran yet,” Sylvanas noted to Jaina. She stood next to her, waiting for the steward to finish setting out the trimmings of wonderful smelling dinner. 

The day had been incredibly productive under her watch. Her rangers had each returned with maps and detailed reports of the activities of the ogres in the area. She’d sent them back out again in pairs, and both teams came back with a freshly killed mountain goat slung between them before dusk. They’d made quick work of the beasts, draining their blood into urns that were being kept warm near a fire just far away enough from the tents so as not to be offensive to their other occupants. This, she had explained, would be spread in a trail leading from the places where the yetis had been sighted toward the ogre camps the following morning, along with bits of goat meat and the rest of the gore from the kills. 

Meanwhile, the mages had set up a little study in the corner of one of the tents, and had been eagerly reviewing Antonidas’ notes with Jaina. They didn’t seem to want to take her seriously at first, but once she’d had the chance to demonstrate her knowledge on the subject, the elves finally seems to consider her at least a worthy participant in their conversation, if not quite an expert. She was still working on that, and still trying to convince herself as much as she was the elves.

All that aside, Jaina’s thoughts on her rudimentary knowledge of Orcish and the demonic runes the green brutes used to infuse the arcane with fel magic quickly disappeared as she noted the way that Sylvanas’ ears and high cheekbones had gone rosy with the cold. The elf shivered notably, even in the warm confines of the tent. “I take it you’re not fond of the weather?” Jaina asked.

“Not in the least,” Sylvanas said. “So as much as this is all far too much, I’m grateful that our prince had the foresight to keep us warm and fed.”

“But then you can’t try to impress me by building us a fire and making your horrible fish soup again,” Jaina said, trying and failing to hide a smile with the hood of her new cloak.

“A shame, I could light the fire myself this time,” Sylvanas told her. She reached into a pouch on her belt and put something into her hand. She reached it out toward Jaina, proudly displaying the tinderbox she had sent to her in the middle of her glove. “I haven’t forgotten it yet.”

Jaina laughed, reaching for her own belt to unhook the sheath of the knife that never left it to show her. “And I’ll...what was it you said? Oh, right, defend us from the unwanted advances of any annoying princes.”

Those reddened ears shot up in a little gesture that Jaina now knew to be in indication of surprise, though Sylvanas’ voice stayed smooth as she replied, “Well, we’re both prepared for the worst, and yet we’re being served like royalty.”

“I’m only a little disappointed about it,” Jaina told her.

“A pity,” Sylvanas noted. “It seems neither of us will get a chance to truly show off our skills this time.”

The steward handed them both glasses of fine wine. A Dalaran red, sweet and fragrant. “Well, it could be worse,” Jaina offered as a toast.

\---

“And here you said it could be worse,” Sylvanas cried over the roar of the wind.

Twelve hours later, it was worse. So much worse. 

Kael’thas had insisted they move forward with the plan the next morning, despite the looming threat of heavy snow. Well, as it tended to do, heavy snow turned into an outright blizzard, reducing the world around them to a white fog. Sylvanas had protested that her rangers could not be expected to work in such awful visibility, but the prince overrode her decisions at every step. So much so that Jaina had begun to suspect that this mission was a more serious form of rebuke than Sylvanas was letting on.

So into the driving snow they had gone, with the rangers running ahead to dump the goat blood near the ogre camps along their way, and the rest of them guarding the enchanted wagon. Kael'thas had insisted they bring it along. Apparently, it also held more instruments of study and survey his mages wanted to use on the Altar. How there was more room in it when it had held all the camp equipment, Jaina still unsure. All she knew was that the constant stream of wasteful arcane energy it let off had given her a headache as the day wore on.

But despite the weather, things had gone smoothly in the morning. They made steady progress toward the Altar, and the rangers reported back that they had sighted the yetis moving towards the places they had stashed the blood. They re-joined those accompanying the wagon, and continued making slow progress through the snow. With any luck, by the time they would reach the Altar, the surrounding ogre camps would already be overrun.

Of course, all of this relied on the keen senses of the yetis. What no one had taken into account was the fact that they were heading into sacred grounds for ogre mages, with a floating object that absolutely screamed of magic. They were relying on the yetis to find the ogres first. Unfortunately, it was the ogres found Kael'thas’ wagon first that afternoon.

“Give us big shiny!” the two-headed creature screamed in an unsettling unison as it swung for Sylvanas.

A half-dozen of the things had descended upon the wagon, attacking both with brute strength and strange dark magic. 

Thankfully, these were the exact opposite skills one should try to assault an elven ranger with. Sylvanas easily dodged the ogre’s fists, and seemed to have a keen awareness for its clumsy magic. 

Jaina couldn’t help but be dazzled as the six rangers each seemed to fall into a loose formation around the wagon and the mages that stuck close to it. They each singled out a target and kept it busy, but the ogres kept too close for any of them to get off a decent shot. True to Sylvanas’ advice, many of them were brandishing a knife or short sword to help defend at close range, but it was clear that such short blades weren’t going to do much to the giants. It took them a few moments to react, but Prince Kael’thas and his mages began conjuring up fire spells to hurl at the beasts.

Only then did it occur to Jaina that she was actually involved in a fight. A real one. Lives were at stake. 

Shit. She wasn’t ready for this.

“Now would be a great time for you to show off that power of yours!” Sylvanas shouted as she danced around the ogre again, aiming a swift strike at his ribs and trying to taunt him away from Jaina in the process.

Figures moved in and out of the curtain of white. Battlecries and hastily spoken words of spells sounded around her, finding little purchase in the air, as muffled as it was by the snow and drown out by the howling wind. Jaina could only watch for a moment. This was something that happened to other people. This was the thing her father told tales of--the glory of war, how he was a hero to the Alliance. How had he made it seem so fun and exciting? It wasn’t any of that. It was terrifying.

She watched as Sylvanas caught the edge of a bolt of dark energy with her shoulder. Pain shot across her cold-reddened features, but she didn’t stagger or stop fighting. She gritted her teeth and twisted again through the snow, in and out of the white void.

Only then did Jaina’s mind seem to catch up with the rest of her. She found her hands moving in the familiar patterns of a spell she’d only ever used on practice dummies before. She waited for Sylvanas to come back into full view again before she released it, not wanting to send the frostbolt flying her way accidentally. 

It struck true on the ogre’s back. Thankfully, true enough for him to stagger a bit and claw at the frost spreading over his shoulder blade. It distracted him enough for Sylvanas to get away, draw her bow, and get a proper shot off, lodging an arrow into the orge’s neck. That was far more distracting. The brute cried out in pain and ripped the arrow out, only to begin to panic as a spurt of blood followed after it.

“Thanks for the help,” Sylvanas said as she came to Jaina’s side. 

Sylvanas didn’t give her time to think about what she’d just done. She dragged them both back against the wagon. Jaina watched her eyes and ears dart, taking in the status of the battle. Sylvanas knocked another arrow, and aimed at another ogre that Vereesa was rolling away from. Just before she went to shoot, her ears flicked again, and she turned her head to a sound that Jaina couldn’t hear above the roar of the wind and the fighting.

Sylvanas was still for a moment, listening.

“What is it?” Jaina asked.

“More are coming,” Sylvanas told her. “Too many for us to fight. I can hear them below that ridge there.” She pointed toward a spot on the mountain below the path they had been following. 

Fear threatened to steal the clarity that Jaina had just snatched back for herself. “Too many? Then...what do we do?”

“Retreat, find cover, though I’m not certain where,” Sylvanas said frankly. She aimed again and took her shot, hitting the ogre attacking Vereesa straight in the eye of one of his two heads. She barked a warning to her rangers in Thalassian, commanding them to finish off their attackers quickly so they could make a retreat.

Jaina looked around. There was no cover. There was only mountainside and snow, maybe a few stunted pines here and there. And even if they found any the ogres would only follow them and their ridiculous cargo to it. Anything with any ability to sense magic would be able to detect it, no matter how bad the visibility got. 

Tides but this storm wasn’t helping. The snow drown out everything, dulling the world around them, yet amplifying the closeness of the battle all the same. It weighed heavily on them, pooling on Jaina’s cloak, even as the warm runes melted it away. Even the mountains themselves seemed to groan under the weight of it all, as heavy as the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Wait. Jaina looked up at the peak above them, just barely visible in the haze of white. It was laden with snow, top heavy, like it was wearing some sort of terrible hat. “Sylvanas,” she breathed, reaching out to stop her from drawing another arrow. “I think...I think I can get you some cover. We’ll still have to make a run for it.”

The elf followed her gaze up the mountain. “An avalanche? Could you trigger one?”

“I think I will have to try,” Jaina said. “It could cut off this pass and take care of the ones coming up below us. But I’d need to get closer to the peak, and the rest of you would need to get out of the way.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Sylvanas chastised, grabbing her shoulder. “You just watched me fight for a good two minutes before you came to your senses. I’m not leaving you alone to go running up a mountain.”

She turned again, calling to Vereesa, “Little Moon, take care of what’s left and get this thing moving. Take the others and head back for camp. I’m going to cover Lady Proudmoore here. She’s got a plan. We’ll meet you there.”

“As you say, Lady Moon,” Vereesa shouted back her acknowledgement of the order.

“Excuse me!” Prince Kael’thas interjected. “I thought I was the one giving orders around here!”

“Then see reason and follow my sister,” Sylvanas said, making no effort to hide her annoyance, or at least not wasting an energy on doing so in that moment. “Surely your magic hasn’t deafened you. You can hear them coming from below. Don’t be a fool, Kael’thas. Go!”

Thankfully, an ogre’s fist provided a fine distraction as it smashed down in the snow beside the prince, just missing him. The creature tripped and crashed down after its blow, leaving Kael’thas to dispatch it with a searing blast of magic to the face. It kept him busy enough not to argue further. 

“Let’s go,” Sylvanas said as she tugged at Jaina’s arm, pulling her in the direction of the snow-laden peak. 

Together they scrambled over rocks and ice. Every so often, Sylvanas would look back at Jaina in askance. Jaina would just shake her head and press on. Both of them stole glances back down toward the path. As the wind would carry the snow away for just a few moments, they could see the rest of the party trudging along with the wagon, with two injured ogres in pursuit being held off by the rangers. As they got higher up the mountain, Jaina could see what Sylvanas had only heard before--a small army of ogres, comprised of both of the two-headed variety and the single-headed ones as well. There were at least two dozen of them, so yes, far too many for even the most competent squad of rangers to fight off. And they were in hot pursuit of the wagon and its defenders.

The next time she turned around, they were getting too close. The wagon was nearly in the shelter of another peak, but the ogres were still in the path of the potential avalanche.

Sylvanas must have noticed the same. This time she asked, “Can you do it now?”

“I’ll have to try,” Jaina told her with a nod. 

They were up on the side of the peak, still further below the cap of snow than Jaina wanted to be, but there was no more time. 

She felt those glowing eyes burning into her as Sylvanas watched her cast. She drew out a combination of frost and arcane runes she’d used separately before, but never together. Frost to call to the snow itself, arcane to amplify the power of that call. Even as she chanted the words of her spell, Jaina found herself adding a few utterings of “please” to it, as if beseeching the very current of magic that ran through her would make it work, or make it reach far enough. She just needed to move the bottom layer of snow on the peak, just a little--just enough to destabilize the rest. 

She pulled at it, feeling the magic bind her physically to it. Her hands felt like they were stuck in cement. Nimble fingers that had once felt in control of the spell were now bound in to the weight of a hundred tons of ice. Jaina pulled with everything within and without her. 

She felt the mountain moving before anything else. The tremors shook her, moving up her legs and making her unsteady on the slippery frozen rocks. It was only when Sylvanas reached out to steady her that she heard the sound--a crack and a roar following it--not unlike thunder. 

“You crazy little mage,” the elf shouted over it as they watched the snow begin to slide down. “You’ve done it!”

More and more of the cap began to collapse and fall, rushing down the side of the mountain and toward the ogres. “We need to go,” Jaina noted, as she’d done a better job of moving the snow than she thought. Some of it was starting to slide their way.

Sylvanas’ answer to that was to grab her again, and start drag her down the mountain and around the back of it. Away from the pass, away from the wagon, opposite the direction of the hopeful safety of their camp.

As they descended, Sylvanas using her natural grace and agility to keep Jaina steady through the twisting path of rocks and snow, they got a few glimpses of the devastation that the avalanche had wrought. The pass was indeed cut off, home only to a vast debris field. Chunks of ice and boulders alike covered what had once been the remains of the old road. With it were parts of ogres sticking out of the snow, some moving and trying to free the rest of their bodies, others as cold and inanimate as the rest of the wreckage. But thankfully, only orge bodies, and no elven ones. Of course, that was just what they could see in the storm and in their hurry, but Jaina somehow felt that if Sylvanas was worried that the others hadn’t escaped, she would have said something.

Instead, she just kept them moving. 

Maybe that was a worse sign?

All that she could tell was that there was no possibility of them to going back the way they’d come from. Even if they could pick their way through the debris field, the surviving ogres would have surely removed themselves from the snow by then. 

But despite the redness that covered her ears and the shivers that were starting to make keeping the steady gait of a trained ranger difficult, Sylvanas kept moving them down the mountain, away from all of it.

“Where are we going?” Jaina eventually asked her. She’d noticed that dim white circle that was the sun as it hid behind all this snow was starting to sink into the western horizon. Evening was descending upon them.

“There should be shelter nearby,” Sylvanas told her through chattering teeth. “A small village, or what was one. Maybe a house or two still stands?”

“If it doesn’t?” Jaina wondered aloud.

“We keep going,” Sylvanas said.

An hour or so later, hidden in a stand of tall pines, they found the village. Well, not so much a village anymore. Though it seemed like the ogres hadn’t ventured into this place and wrecked it otherwise, nature had not been kind to it either. In the years since the collapse of Alterac, the few cottages that had once housed the hearty people that called this mountain home had mostly crumbled. Their thatched roofs were caved in or even blown away by the howling winds of the region’s brutal winters. 

But up on a little rise, just outside of the trees, was a slightly larger structure, probably once the dwelling of the leader of this little place. It had a good roof of timber, which was by no means in great shape, but mostly intact. It still laid proudly over a structure made of grey mountain stone, which was further sheltered by the hill it backed up against. It was no palace, no posh elven tent, no purple spire of Dalaran, but it was out of the wind and the snow.

Jaina surveyed the cottage from the inside. It was actually in surprisingly good shape. The single-room dwelling was still fitted out with most of the trappings of a typical home. There was a bed in one corner, near a stone hearth, which, while bear of linens, hadn’t yet rotted away. There were shelves lining the walls, a few of which even still held pottery and crocks and rusted pots and pans. There was even a heavy iron cauldron of sorts hung over where a fire should have been. Jaina was impressed to find it didn’t have any holes rusted through it. 

She felt a few whispers of arcane running through this place. Maybe that was the explanation? Not so much a leader’s house. Perhaps a local mage or hedgewitch. Someone who had just enough knowledge and just enough power to keep magic on their side in an effort to preserve their things.

Jaina had to wonder why. Did they plan to come back? Even with the hints of enchantment she was detecting, the thick layer of dust on everything told her that no one had set foot in this place for years.

Her curiosity was broken as Sylvanas entered the cabin. She’d left to go find wood for a fire, or had at least mumbled something to that effect through chattering teeth. She’d returned with a pile of snow-landen branches, and cursed as she set them down in the hearth and began to try to stack them for a fire.

“They’re as frozen as we are,” Jaina commented as she leaned down to try to help.

“Your hand is fully functional this time, I take it?” Sylvanas snarked back at her.

Oh. Right. Jaina found herself smiling. It was her turn to show off this time. “Well, then allow me,” she said, gesturing for Sylvanas to step back.

Jaina would later admit to only a little bit of showboating as she pushed her magic at the pile of wood, shaping it into a perfect little pyramid. She then drew the cold and moisture out of the branches and set them alight with a puff of fire that was just a little larger than it needed to be. Only a little.

She turned back to Sylvanas with a grin. “Is this the part where I help you out of your wet clothes? I’m terrible at fishing, a disgrace to my people really, so don’t get your hopes up on that part.”

She took the weak attempt at a laugh as a triumph, but only then did she really notice how miserable the elf looked. It was true, her kind were not meant for the cold. Even with all the finery of her armor, Sylvanas didn’t have an enchanted cloak to keep her warm. She again had the look of a cat, but this time a poor frost-bitten beast that had been left out to fend for itself on a winter night. 

Jaina found that stirred a pang of guilt in her she wasn’t expecting. Sylvanas had been truly miserable this entire time, yet she was the one who had kept them going, and who had steered them to shelter.

Jaina shook the last of the snow off herself and stood up, going immediately to work. “Not that you’re used to being ordered around, Ranger General, but please get by that fire and stay there. You’re worse off than those branches.”

Sylvanas didn’t protest. She shrugged off her snow-caked cloak and kneeled by the fire. Jaina tried her best not to watch as Sylvanas began removing the heavier metal piece of her armor. Two pauldrons clanked to the floor unceremoniously. A chestplate followed it, along with the plates of her greaves. Beneath them was the slender elf that Jaina remembered from their last misadventure, still bundled in her fine leathers and the few bits of wool cloth and padding that peaked out from beneath them, but now no longer covered in snow.

Jaina meanwhile, was mostly dry thanks to her cloak, and not really all that cold. She would have to thank Modera profusely for her gift. It was literally a life saver. An idea dawned on her as she slipped out of the enchanted garment. Without asking, she tossed it on top of the shivering elf, and laughed as she watched Sylvanas try to catch it with her cold-numbed hands, only to have the cloak slide down her and puddle around her knees.

“It should be warm,” Jaina told her. “Unless Modera only tuned it to me.”

Sylvanas seemed to be trying her best to stay somewhat dignified as she snatched the cloak off the floor and held it to her chest. She nodded, then wrapped it around herself. 

“What about that shoulder?” Jaina asked. “I saw you take a hit.”

Sylvanas shook her head. “I’m fine. Just...just let me get warm again.”

Jaina found she couldn’t stop grinning to herself as she continued reversing their roles. She’d had the foresight both to bring her Kirin Tor-issued travel pack with them on the hike out, despite Kael’thas saying that it was hardly necessary, and to wear it under her cloak. And thankfully so, because her supplies were intact and mostly dry. She hung the bedroll near the fire to dry completely. She used the little pot they’d provided her with to take scoops of snow from outside and dump them into the cauldron over the fire. She separated out the little rations--just bundles of crackers, cheese, and dried meat. 

“Here,” Sylvanas said after a while. She tossed her own little pack to Jaina. “There’s tea in there.”

“Damn, you win then. You’re far better prepared,” Jaina noted and began to sift through the little satchel. “Tea sounds so amazing right now.”

“I’d rather be back in Dalaran, having it almost spilled on me again,” Sylvanas laughed. She seemed to be a little less miserable. “At least it would be nice and warm.”

“That poor boy,” Jaina replied, finding herself laughing at the memory. It seemed like that was months ago, not just two days. “We’ll have to torture him with your beauty again some other time.”

She nearly choked as the last words left her mouth, and bit her lip to keep for saying anything else so stupid as she found the little jar of tea and began to crush the leaves up in her pot. Thankfully, Sylvanas didn’t seem perturbed as she went over to get some of the water that was now boiling in the cauldron.

In fact, she was grinning herself now. “Sit with me,” Sylvanas bid her, tapping a spot on the floor that wasn’t covered by her wet armor. “We can admire how ridiculous this day has been while we wait for the tea.”

Jaina tried her best not to look at how the fire had returned her to just the perfect amount of rosiness. The Ranger General was still cold, clearly, but now thawed enough to be something of herself again.

Why was that slightly terrifying?

Still, Jaina complied, and stashed the pot of tea near the coals to keep it warm as it steeped, then sat beside the elf. “We should have thought about that damn wagon,” Jaina lamented. “I don’t know about you, but I think I could have sensed that thing from miles off.”

“It was rather noisy, wasn’t it?” Sylvanas noted. “I’m certain you’re more sensitive to it than I am, but yes, I would say that’s a fair assumption. Clearly, we weren’t giving the ogres enough credit. But speaking of credit, you were amazing back there. I almost didn’t think you would pull off that avalanche. If you hadn’t already impressed me with your letters, well--just consider me doubly impressed.”

Jaina felt her cheeks heating up to a degree that she was certain would melt the snow around the cabin in at least a good twenty foot radius. “I...I honestly wasn’t sure I could do it either, but there was no other way.”

“Don’t try to be humble. You saved our skins. Quick thinking and highly effective,” Sylvanas said with a nod. “You will be a great asset to the Kirin Tor. I think this latest debacle we’ve gotten you into will be proof enough for that.”

“If we can find out way back to them, maybe,” Jaina found herself worrying. 

Sylvanas chuckled. “Easy enough to do when it’s light out again, and even easier if this snow lets up and we can reliably see more than a few feet in front of us. It’ll be another hike, but we can go back around from the south and get back to camp from there, if my memory is correct.”

“So you’ve been in Alterac before?” Jaina asked.

Sylvanas told her of better times in the now dead kingdom as they shared the pot of tea. She spoke of missions with her sisters, guarding trade caravans gods know how many years ago. She’d known of this village because they would stop there sometimes, and the people there had been kind enough to feed them and ask them for nothing in return except for tales of their enchanted homeland.

And now it was in ruins. Jaina had to ponder for a bit on what it was like to be an elf, to live so long and watch so much of the world change around them, while they and their kingdom changed very little. 

“So, Lady Moon is it?” Jaina asked as she downed the last of her tea, reveling in the warmth of it. “I always wondered if you had a nickname.”

Sylvanas’ glowing eyes looked off into the fire. “Alleria was Lady Sun. She said we were so opposite that I must be Lady Moon instead. Vereesa followed me everywhere when she was small, so again, it was Alleria that dubbed her Little Moon.”

Jaina didn’t know much about the eldest Windrunner sister, save that she had been a hero of the Second War and had been lost beyond the Dark Portal in her quest for vengeance against the orcs. It was clear that this was not a subject that Sylvanas liked to talk about. She could see the pain in her eyes, even as Sylvanas tried her best not to show it. 

Tides, that had to be an even harder fact of elven life. They lived so long, but were still mortal enough to die. Sylvanas had been close to her elder sister, clearly, and had probably been so for centuries. It must have been so awful, to love someone for so long, only to have them taken from you so quickly.

Jaina decided that food was going to be her best chance of a distraction from that heavy subject. She went over to her pack and grabbed two of the ration bundles, handing one to Sylvanas. She watched as the elf began to pick at it in silence, still looking into the fire. 

Jaina took a few bites of cracker before she found herself saying, “My brother Derek used to call me Bilgerat. Mother hated it. He said that he would stop calling me that if I would stop stowing away on his ship every time I got loose. I didn’t stop, though. Not until the war. He scared me out the habit then, told me stories of orcs and dragons patrolling the seas, and how they would eat little girls for dinner. I didn’t believe him at first, not until one of our boats came back with a burnt out hull and bite marks in its sails. That was enough for me. I kept off the ships after that. Derek didn’t. He couldn’t, of course. He was fighting along with my father. It was only a few months later that he sank.”

Sylvanas hummed and acknowledgement. She probably knew as much about Derek Proudmoore as Jaina knew about Alleria Windrunner. Still, it was strange to think of the two of them there, remembering their siblings, surviving them, even as danger seemed to court them both, just as it had with those who’d come before.

It was Sylvanas that stirred them from such dark thoughts. She brushed her knuckles gently against Jaina’s shoulder, saying, “Well then, Bilgerat, you’d best finish your dinner.”

Jaina sighed. “I suppose that’s better than Lady Proudmoore. Maybe one day I’ll get you to call me Jaina.”

“Maybe,” Sylvanas teased, smiling again as she held a piece of jerky to her lips.

There was no more talk of lost brothers or sisters. They carried on again as easily as they always seemed to do. They laughed at how they’d ended up sheltering together again. Jaina offered an alternate plan for portalling them back to Dalaran, as she hadn’t thought try to attune herself to the campsite, then maybe riding up the mountains to rejoin the others. Sylvanas shot it down, explaining that it would take them even longer than just picking their way back through the other pass the next day. They talked again of old Alterac, of how beautiful it was in the summer, with the peaks covered in wildflowers, all blooming brief and desperate in what little sun this land could offer them. Well, Sylvanas talked. Jaina listened. She could listen for days like this.

But the run up and down the mountain and the amount of magic she’d used that day were starting to take their toll on her. Exhaustion set in as her other needs were taken care of. She found herself struggling to stay awake, as much as she wanted to keep listening to Sylvanas’ stories. Lulled by the warmth of the fire and the smooth notes of Sylvanas’ voice, she fell asleep sitting up not once, but twice, before she finally had to given in and see about making a proper place to sleep.

The cottage was well-preserved, and larger than the rest, but yes, there was still only one bed. Jaina wasn’t about to listen to protests about how it would be used or who would use it. She was too damn tired for that. She laid the now warm and dry bedroll on the empty frame, finding it made for a decent enough mattress. As she saw Sylvanas go about searching for another spot, Jaina simply demanded, “Stop. Get over here and bring that cloak with you. We’ve done this before. Don’t try to be proper on me now.”

Sylvanas chuckled and shook her head a little, but walked over to her anyway. “See? Look at you, ordering me around again. This is why I have to call you Lady Proudmoore.”

“No more sass from you tonight. I’m too tired for it,” Jaina warned. She dropped onto the bedroll, rolling as far over as she could to make room for the elf. It wasn’t that far, but she couldn’t be bothered to be embarrassed about it this time.

But Sylvanas didn’t offer any further objections. She laid beside her, just far enough away that only their knees were touching, and draped the enchanted cloak over the top of them. “And here we are, yet again,” she noted from underneath the canopy of purple fabric.

Sleep was already claiming Jaina, this time threatening to be far more lasting. And she needed it. She needed it so much. Despite the odd way her winter clothes wrinkled into her skin, or how the timber bed frame poked at her hips, she was intensely comfortable otherwise. Warm, fed, triumphant, and not alone. She could get used to such conditions.

“Goodnight, Jaina,” was the last thing she heard before she drifted off.

She woke even warmer, tangled in the arms of...wait what? Oh. Right. Sylvanas. Gods she was strong, and apparently an aggressive sleep cuddler? Jaina was wrapped tightly in both her and the cloak. She had most definitely drooled on Sylvanas’ shoulder at some point in the night, as there was a noticeable wet spot on the leather there. Had she snored? Probably. 

Before Jaina could be awake enough for the embarrassment to matter to her again, Sylvanas stirred. She didn’t let go of her, but instead lifted her head, blinking blearily at the daylight that streamed into the cabin through its single window and few choice holes in the roof. Jaina slammed her eyes shut and decided it was best to feign sleep.

She sort of wished she’d been able to watch Sylvanas lay a kiss on her forehead, though. A cruel vengeance for the one that Jaina had snuck on her last time? Maybe. But this one lingered just a bit too long, and was just a bit too warm and fond. 

“Silly little mage,” Sylvanas muttered in Thalassian as she gently unwrapped herself from her embrace. She slid out of bed with the same infuriating amount of grace she had with every movement. 

Jaina listened to her as she poked at the fire, rousing its coals to warmth again. She listened to the homey sounds of Sylvanas getting more wood and water, humming one of her little tunes again as she did her best to be quiet otherwise.

This was so nice. She wanted to fall asleep all over again, but also had to stay awake to enjoy it. Jaina realized she would miss this dearly, when they left again and returned back to their normal lives. She needed to conjure up more ways to get them trapped together again. Why was that her favorite thing in all this world now? 

It used to be the sea, then books, then the way that magic felt when it flowed from deep within her to her finger tips, ready to be put to use by her will alone. Now it was this, listening to Sylvanas work, remembering the feeling of her body as it wrapped around hers, warm and safe.

Shit. This wasn’t exactly a friendship anymore, was it? 

Jaina quickly reminded herself that she didn’t know elven custom enough to make a judgement call on Sylvanas’ side. All that she knew was that she was developing a crush--a crush that was being severely indulged in the best way right now.

Or at least it was until Sylvanas finally prodded her to wake her. “Breakfast is served, Lady Proudmoore. More tea and some oatcakes I found in my pack. Then we’d best get going.”

Jaina had never heard a more disappointing thing in her entire life. And she actually liked oatcakes.

There was no mention of kisses or of the drool spot on Sylvanas’ shoulder as they ate. She talked of practical things this time, explaining their route for the day, and noting how the storm had passed. The world around their cabin was indeed a glaring white. It would be slow going, as they would need to wade through all the fresh snow, but Sylvanas as confident she could get them back to camp again by sundown.

And gods, that confidence. That little fang-studded smirk of hers. This was dangerous. It was so dangerous. Every word she spoke drew Jaina back in, no matter how dull the subject was. She just wanted more of her. She didn’t want to let her go. She didn’t want to go back to Kael’thas and this stupid mission. She wanted to stay here. She wanted Sylvanas all to herself for as long as she could have her.

Even as they began to pack up and get ready to leave, Jaina found herself scheming ways to stop it. She didn’t act on any of them, of course, but she wanted to. 

So she nearly died when Sylvanas grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. Jaina might have actually died if the elf had leaned in and kissed, as she was already doing in her imagination. Instead, the real Sylvanas was clucking over the state of her. 

“It’s not going to be an easy walk,” she reminded Jaina. “Even with your fancy cloak, I think you’ll be miserable by the end of it.”

“Says the woman who was an elf-cicle last night,” Jaina said, quickly fishing her mind out of that fantasy and back into the sobering cold of reality.

“At least do something with that hair,” Sylvanas bid her. “If you leave it loose like that, it’s just going to get damp and become a misery to you.”

The elf had tied her own hair back before they’d even left Kael’thas’ camp days before, and had just made a show of re-doing her ponytail. 

Jaina hesitated. Truth be told, she was terrible with her hair. She usually just tried to get it looking straight and neat and left it. She didn’t know how to do much else with it.

“Here,” Sylvanas said. “Sit on the bed. I’ll get it out of your way.”

Jaina did as ordered, finding herself perched on the end of the bed frame while Sylvanas quickly separated her own blonde locks into a few sections and began weaving them together with expert hands. She was nearly dying again. Of that, Jaina was very certain. Maybe she had already died? Was this heaven? Was this her reward for saving the rest of them with the avalanche? Maybe it had consumed her? 

Yes, this would be a fitting reward for a hero’s death. Gentle fingers in her hair. Sylvanas humming another tune, as she always seemed to do whenever she was at work on little tasks like this.

“All finished.”

No, it would not have ended if this was heaven. Damn.

Jaina didn’t have a mirror, but she could feel the length of a neat braid over her shoulder, trailing down the side of her neck that had been closest to Sylvanas. It was just contained enough to keep the hair out of her eyes, but not too tight or rigid. As with everything Sylvanas seemed to do, it was perfect. 

“I uh...thank you,” was all Jaina could muster for a response. “I think you’ll need to show me how to do this later.” She felt the braid with her hands, suitably impressed by how well it would fit exactly under the hood of her cloak.

Sylvanas only laughed in response and flipped said hood up over her head.

As they left, Jaina turned back to look at the little cabin. It really wasn’t in bad shape at all. She needed to understand why. Such subtle enhancements were really the most interesting magic of all. Maybe it was sitting on a ley line? Perhaps some spirit protected this place? She had to know. 

But there was no time for that now. That wasn’t to say there wouldn’t be later. She could see those wildflowers for herself then. 

As they left, Jaina broke a little splinter of wood off the doorframe. Just about enough to fit the runes she’d need on it. Maybe a little more.

Sylvanas had been right, though. Even with the sun out and shining, the walk back was neither easy nor pleasant, despite the two of them both trying to keep spirits high. They slogged through the morning, with Jaina teaching Sylvanas a sea shanty, since she always seemed to be singing. It was a treat to hear her voice echo through the canyons they traversed, singing about mermaids and sea serpents in her elven accent, then immediately doubting that such things were real, despite Jaina’s protests that they were.

But by afternoon, both of them were too tired and too cold to sing, much less do little more than grunt at one another. Still, they kept on, and Sylvanas would continue to assure Jaina that they were going to make it.

The sun was starting to turn the snow around them blood orange, threatening to set all too quickly past the mountains, when they finally caught sight of the gaudy golden tents of Kael’thas’ camp. They were on a ridgeline above the watchtower, looking down as the elves below were beginning to light a signal fire, presumably for Jaina and Sylvanas to follow back to them.

“Looks like we’ve worried them,” Sylvanas noted.

Jaina nodded, too exhausted to offer any sort of retort. All she knew was that she wanted to be in those warm tents again, no matter how unnecessary they were. They were definitely necessary to her in that moment.

Sylvanas smiled back at her, and went to stand beside her. “Before we get back, I wanted to thank you again. You need to believe in yourself more. You truly saved us all, Jaina. All of those people down there have you to thank for their lives today. Myself included.”

“You called me Jaina,” was all she could pick out of that.

Sylvanas grinned, her ears flicked, their reddened tips pointing just slightly downwards. What was that again? Bashfulness? “I guess I did. So, yes, thank you Jaina. Thank you for your quick thinking and for that awful song from this morning that’s still stuck in my head.”

Even if she were entirely awake and energized, Jaina wouldn’t have quite known how to respond to that. So she just leaned into Sylvanas.

She didn’t expect another kiss from her, this time a quick brush of cold lips on her equally cold cheek. Did it even count? She was too numb to really feel it. 

And Sylvanas was already starting back down to the camp before she could process what had happened.

\---

A knock interrupted Antonidas’ droning yet again. This time, Jaina had been paying attention, though. Well, slightly. He was rambling on about her findings on the Altar, mostly gushing over the paper she’d written on it and brought to him for review. Who didn’t like being gushed over? 

Jaina was beginning to maybe feel like she deserved it. Maybe. Just some of it.

It had been her, after all, that had scared off the ogres with her avalanche, and made it possible for the party to safely study the Altar of Storms after they reconvened. It had been her plan that allowed them all to escape with only minor injuries all around. It had been her that Prince Kael’thas had personally thanked and lauded, once he’d gotten a proper explanation, of course. It had been her that discovered a huge chunk of previously unknown runes once they got to the Altar, and who had done a great job at cataloging them and fitting them in with previously known findings on the Orc’s demonic rituals. 

So yes, maybe she did deserve this praise. Maybe she could get used to it.

But, at least for now, she was still an apprentice, and she still had to get the damn door. 

Vereesa was yet again behind it, offering Jaina one of her winks as she came with her usual handful of letters. She slipped a small box to Jaina before heading over to the Archmage.

It was wrapped in simple, solid forest green paper, tied with a little piece of twine. There were no other markings, but Jaina didn’t have to guess who it was from. She just gave a quick glance over her shoulder to confirm that the youngest Windrunner was providing enough of a distraction for her to open it. Beneath the paper was just a simple wooden box. Inside of it was something she’d never seen before. A beautiful feather, made of gold. It could be worn as a pendant, maybe an earring if she were an elf. It hung from a golden ring, suspended just under a single gilded bead made from smooth blue gemstone. 

There was no note with it. No letter. Jaina got the distinct impression that the object itself was supposed to say all that there was to be said this time, only she had no idea what that was. 

She admired it while she waited for Vereesa to finish chatting with Antonidas. Surely this was some elven thing. She had to know what it meant, right?

Jaina caught her on the way out and showed her the feather pendant. “What is this?” she asked.

Vereesa’s eyes went wide. Her ears almost shot straight up. She gave a brief look of surprise at Jaina, but then shouted back to Antonidas. “Archmage, would it be all right if I borrowed Jaina for a few moments?”

“As long as you return her,” the old man replied with a laugh.

“We’ll be just a minute,” Vereesa promised.

Her grip on Jaina’s arm was just a little too hard as she ushered her out onto the balcony. 

“You need to send to back,” was all that she said when the door shut behind them. She held out her hand. “If you just send it back, it’s fine. I promise.”

“Why would I send it back? What does it mean?” Jaina repeated, not giving up the box yet.

“It’s ugh...It’s an expression of romantic interest. It’s complicated. You just...you should send it back to her. That’s a nice way of saying you don’t feel the same way,” Vereesa explained, hand still extended. “What were you even doing together that gave her that idea?”

“I...we...romantic interest?” Jaina found herself stammering out.

“Yes, yes,” Vereesa sighed. “It’s a formal thing. You’d wear it to show that you’re exclusive. Listen, I don’t really think you want to hear me explain the complexities of elven dating to you. You are going to send it back, right?”

Jaina found that her grip on the box had tightened. “Just out of curiosity...what would I do if I didn’t want to, um, reject it?”

“Jaina!” Vereesa objected. “Don’t make me list the reasons why you should. For both of your sakes!”

“Can you just tell me?” Jaina pleaded.

“You would send your own token back. _Belore_ , I can’t believe I’m even entertaining the idea of that happening,” Vereesa sighed. “You should just give it to me, Jaina. Please. Do the logical thing.”

Jaina swallowed, but kept her grip on the box. “Let me just...let me write her a letter to go with it, okay? Let me just explain, please. I don’t want to lose her as a friend.”

“It better be just a letter,” Vereesa warned. “Or you can find yourself someone else to carry it.”

It was not a letter. It probably felt like one, and Jaina had worked very hard to make sure that it did. She’d also found a stone that was the exact same weight as the pendant. She’d wrapped the box back up and tied it so annoyingly that she hoped Vereesa wouldn’t bother to check it.

As for the feather pendant, well, it was a pleasant weight on her chest now, dangling from a chain she’d found and hidden beneath the collar of her robes. 

Her own token was far less graceful, but a little more practical. She’d also fashioned it into a pendant. A thin scrap of weathered wood, delicately imbued with tiny arcane runes. She had to add a dampening field around it, to protect it from Vereesa’s natural elven senses. It took the better part of the afternoon, but Jaina managed to finish it in time. A teleportation charm, a mirror of the one that she’d already made for herself. It would take Sylvanas to the cabin in Alterac if she used it, then back to the location she’d used it from when tapped again.

She sent it along with a simple note.

_For when you want to see the wildflowers again. Don’t tell Little Moon. Do your best to look disappointed._

_But yes. I will warn you that I really don’t know what I’m doing, but yes._

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Falling Light](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17109833) by [QuickYoke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickYoke/pseuds/QuickYoke)




End file.
